Awakenings
by Hydra-chang
Summary: Waking up. Mainly slash.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Notes: In my defence, this was written in the dark at around 12:00 midnight. Sorry.

Awakenings 

Duo opened his eyes and groaned quietly. Light lanced in from the open window, throwing bright flashes across his brain. He turned onto his side, away from the window, and buried his head under the pillow. Keeping his eyes closed, Duo sorted through his memories, admittedly slightly hazy, of the night before…

Right. They were at Quatres. Well, one of Quatres anyway. The arab seemed to have hundreds hidden around the place.

Abdul was there, and had introduced them to this arabian drink called… something. That bit of information seemed to be missing, something Duo knew he should find worrying, but he couldn't be bothered to care right now. After that, bits kept going blank.

Heero had passed out under the table, he remembered that. Hah! Who would've thought that the 'perfect soldier' couldn't hold his drink! 

The arab had followed soon after. Mr. Young-and-innocent prob'ly never got drunk b'fore, thought Duo muzzily. The fresh air from that bloody window was starting to clear his head anyway. That was a plus.

Then there was a big blank, about an hour, he thought. All he could remember after that was Wu-man passing out in the fountain with Trowa then…

Oh. Yes.

Carefully, Duo stuck his head out from under the pillow, looking for all the world like an ostrich that had just survived a blow to the head. His arm felt cautiously  around the bed. 

There. An arm, then a chest.

Duo turned over and the last nights acts slammed into focus. Grinning gently, Duo stroked his lovers' soft black hair back off his forehead, and slid the dark glasses, miraculously still intact, from his nose. 

He giggled quietly. "hehe…must ask 'dul if he'd bring more of that stuff next time.." This guy sure knew how to have fun!

With a small sigh, Duo curled up against the warm chest of his lover, and went back to sleep.


	2. Awakenings II

Awakenings II 

Elsewhere,

30 years earlier.

With a small sigh, I watched my lover push his small dark glasses up his nose and climb up to the gundam, the Tiger Lily.

"Watch out Jerry" yelled Howard from the control room, "I'm not sure if it's safe yet" 

Jerry grinned and I sighed again. That big blond lunk had just gone and convinced Jerry that he had to do this.

"I'll be fine, watch me!" he called down. 

I held out a hand "Be careful, for me?" I asked.

"I'll be careful, love" he said quietly, then climbed into the cockpit. The engines booted up, control systems came on line and the Lily lifted off.

Up, up. Too high! Too fast!

Boom.

The loud, flat sound echoed around the deserted base, shivering across flesh and down bones. The sky was still for a moment then all hell exploded.

The gundam flashed into an expanding cloud of flame and debris, surrounding the body of the only one I've ever really felt anything for.

A small speck, growing larger and larger. Jerry!

D bolted upright in bed, still hearing that flat, awful noise. Instinctively, he turned to check on the man beside him.

Long hair, grey now, a metal arm, permanent reminder of that day, over fifty years ago now, when his world had turned to flame and, where bright amber had once stared back, now only cold metal lay.

Still, even now, even after all these years, he was beautiful.

Calming himself, D lay back down and rested his head on his lovers chest.

"Remember Icarus, Jerry?" He whispered sadly to his lover as the human arm wrapped unconsciously around him. He could hear his heart beating steadily as he drifted slowly back off to sleep. And to dreams.   


	3. Awakenings III

"Hell is gone, and all the devils are here" Awakenings III 

Pain. 

Flames.

Gunfire.

Soldiers, enemies all around.

Gun in hand, thundering loudly in the air around the young killer.

Strapped down to a table in a cold, white room. Stabbed with needles, countless experiments.

Voices, faces swimming through the fog inside his head.

"Live by your feelings", a stern voice, accompanied by a vision of dirty, brown-blonde hair, bright, piercing blue eyes in blurred, all-but-forgotten features.

"You are a weapon" Cold metal lenses this time, a false leg, false arm, long grey hair.

Pain.

A green meadow, with daisies dotting the grass and a blue sky overhead. A small girl, walking her dog, a flower.

An explosion, and a small, lonely body among the ruins.

Light, slowly gathering the bad memories away, surrounding him in peace. Voices of friends, companions, around him.

"Hey He-chan! A hand over here?" A cheerful, laughing face, with an oil smudge down one cheek, sparkling violet eyes and a long braid swinging as he ran.

"Heero, come and join us" A blonde, bright aquamarine eyes, and a golden smile, like the sun. 

"Yuy. Come in" A solemn voice, black hair pulled painfully tight, black eyes, so often closed to the world, set in smooth oval features. Blank faced, but a warmth in the voice that said he was welcome, a friend, cared for.

"…." Few words, but always there with a helping hand. Long bangs, hiding an emerald eyes. Blank faced as he. 

Friends.

And….yes.

"Come in silly. You'll catch your death" A woman this time, long auburn curls and green eyes. Always ready, with food or comfort. His wife. His love.

"Catherine" he sighed as he drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Catherine watched her husband toss and turn in their small bed. Pain, anger and fear knotted his countenance. She wished she knew what was wrong, wished she could help. She Heaved a relieved sigh as his face relaxed, peace spreading over his features, smoothing the knots in his shoulders as he slept.

"Catherine" he murmured, and she smiled. It didn't matter if she didn't know what he was dreaming about. As long as she could help, she was happy.

Catherine smoothed the wild hair back from Heero's brow, and then lay down, lulled to sleep by the lazy noises of the circus animals nearby.


	4. Awakenings IV

Awakenings IV 

Flames, flames everywhere, devouring the only life he had ever known.

Father!

Milliardo Peacecraft, Crown Prince of Sanc, hid behind a fallen bulwark of stone, concealed in the shadows away from the cold eyes of the Romefeller soldiers.

He watched as they herded his family: his father, mother, and baby sister, numerous cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents, into the centre of the huge, ancient throne room.

He watched as the soldiers laughed among themselves, their voices covered by the crash of falling masonry.

He watched as one walked up to his father, watched them argue, and then the soldier turn and nod, once. Just once.

And he watched, biting down on his fist to stifle cries, as every member of the Royal family of Sanc, from the oldest grandmother to the youngest child, died in a rattle of cold gunfire and a sea of warm blood.

Flames erupted from the bodies as he ran, to the forest, to safety.

Zechs Marquise, top pilot of OZ, shot upright in bed, long blond hair sticking to his sweat-shined back and face. He stared around frantically, relaxing as his eyes fell on familiar, well-known feature. The desk, the open window, a vase of red and white roses on the side, the open door to the bathroom on the left.

And, of course, his eyes came inevitably to the bed. Or rather, to its occupants. 

On his left slept the famed commander-general of OZ, His Excellency Treize Khusranada, his short ginger hair falling into his eyes, his body relaxed, sleep smoothing the lines of care from the too-old face.

And on the other side, slept a dragon. Chang Wufei, Gundam Pilot 05, teenaged terrorist, and sworn enemy of both OZ, and its charismatic leader, curled up against Zechs' side like an overgrown kitten, smooth caramel limbs tangled with his own. His silky black locks tumbled around his young face, making him seem even younger than his fifteen years.

Zechs, former Crown Prince Milliardo Peacecraft of the Sanc Kingdom, lay back down between the warm bodies of his lovers, wrapped his arms around them both, and drifted back off to sleep.

Hopefully, this time, with no dreams.


	5. Awakenings V

Hey.

Look, I gotta apologise for the delay in getting this up. I wrote it months back, and just never got round to typing it out. That's what I get for writing in notebooks...meh. So, it's up, though I doubt anyone's reading this anymore.... but hey, I'm gonna put it up anyway.

And I'd like a hand. This has sort of left GW now, as you might notice. Should I move the whole thing to x-over, or just this chapter, or leave it here? Help?

Awakenings V 

He was standing in that cursed cavern, with mounds of shining silver, god and precious gems piled around him. But this time, things were different. He was alone, kneeling, his arms and legs tied tightly behind him. He could feel the harsh rope digging into his skin, could almost count the rough fibres. It was night, and a crescent moon lent a soft, shimmering illumination to the eerie scene.

Something clicked behind him, and he struggled wildly, trying to free himself. He stilled suddenly when a hand brushed along his shoulders, and a familiar voice chuckled

"Well luv, you are in a mess. How'd you ever get in this state, ey?"

He relaxed, recognizing his lovers' voice. Jack came around the front, beads clicking together in his hair, and his familiar scent wafted through the air: rum, oranges, sun-soaked wood, salt, a smell that was totally, and uniquely, _Jack._

Jack knelt in front of him, a hand reaching out. Just then, an errant strand of moonlight caught him, and suddenly a skull surrounded with clicking braids leered at him, a cold, skeletal hand caressed his cheek, and the skull came closer, moonlight glinting off gold and bleached ivory as it pressed its cold teeth and lipless mouth against his.

James Norrington, Commodore of the British Navy, the most feared, and respected, pirate chaser in the Caribbean, sat upright in bed, hand groping for his pistol, ears alert to any sound, even before his eyes were fully open. When they were, he panicked for a second, before his sleep-fogged brain recalled where he was.

He wasn't in the cavern, wasn't in fact within leagues of the cursed Isle de Murta, but nor was he at his house in Port Royal, but instead rocked gently, cradled by his true home, the sea.

But, rather than his neat, rather Spartan quarters aboard the _Dauntless_, his eyes fell upon a scattered array of objects, most of which wouldn't have been allowed within miles of a navy ship.

A desk sat against the wall, piled high with papers that threatened to spill at any moment as the ship swayed softly.

A coat was thrown over a chair, loose arms trailing. Empty plates lay on a small table, tribute to an earlier meal. Shirts and britches were scattered in a trail from the table to the bed. A proper bed, not the hammock or bunk of most cabins, but a huge, soft thing, easily big enough to hold three of four bodies, piled high with cushions and throws in luxuriant fabrics.

And on the bed, next to him... well, that certainly wouldn't be allowed on a ship of Her Majesties Navy!

Jack lay sprawled over the bed, one arm draped over James, the other dangling off the edge of the bed, and taking up far more space than a man his size should technically be able to. His hair spread itself out over the pillows, trinkets glimmering in the moonlight streaming in from the window. His arm was turned, the brand and sparrow tattoo clearly visible.

James chuckled, lying down again. No, Jack would definitely _not _be found aboard a navy ship – unless he was stealing it, of course, James allowed wryly, which was why _he_ was here, aboard the _Black Pearl, _in bed with her captain, instead of back at Port, where he was supposed to be. But he _belonged_ here, he thought, as he drifted back off to sleep.


	6. Awakenings VI

Awakenings VI

Long black hair mingling with white-blonde locks. Tanned limbs intertwined with moon-pale skin. Silken emerald sheets twisted around sated bodies. Carved snakes twining around oaken bedposts, blinking faceted gemstone eyes at the two men sprawled together in the centre of the bed.

/Black stone walls, scratched and old. A pile of dirty straw in one corner of the cell. A sturdy wooden door, with a grill cut at the top for the guards to see in. A small slit in the wall, the only contact to the outside world.

Sirius huddled to one side of the door, knees clutched to his chest as he pulled himself into a smaller ball. Cold, so cold. A deep, sucking cold that had little to do with the weather outside, and everything to do with the dark, hooded forms gliding along the corridor outside.

It was always cold in Azkaban/

/Laughter, insane, high, cackling laughter ringing over the screams of tortured muggles. A dark night lit with a sickly green glow. Demonic red eyes, gleaming in a bone white face.

A sibilant, hissing voice sliding over him as a rustle of scales slips around his feet.

"You have failed me, Lucius" A skeletal hand raising a dark wand "Crucio"

And new screams overlaid the old, all overseen by the grinning, sparking, green skull hanging in the night sky/

Two pairs of eyes snapped open, blue meeting silver-flecked grey. Shaking, they curled into each others arms, Sirius pillowing his head against his lovers lean chest and releasing a sigh as they drifted back to sleep, each with the others name on his lips.


	7. Awakenings VII

Awakenings VII

/Laughter, high and cold. A woman screaming. A flash of green light. A hand unwrapping a turban, and a flat, noseless face glaring from the back of Quirrels head. A wave of sucking cold, black figures gliding over the school grounds. A small, red-haired figure crumpled at the base of a giant statue. A rasping, hissing voice

"kill…..kill…..kill….."

A dragon breathing fire, its eyes flickering from red to silver as he swerves close to the ground. Another redhead, floating white and still under the lake. Silvery, familiar ghosts emerging from a black wand. Cedric, his parents, an old man, surrounding him, whispering encouragement. A flash of green, a dark haired figure falling backwards through a shifting, shimmering veil./

Harry woke, green eyes staring blindly at the scarlet canopy, body stiff shaking, with wet tracks marking his cheeks.

He rolled over, resting against the warm body filling the other side of the bed. Wiry arms, dusted with freckles and fine, coppery hair wrapped around his waist. A chin rested on his shoulder, and he twisted around, looking up.

A long nose, fair skin with only the faintest summer tan, copper red hair falling into sky blue eyes, currently sleepy and concerned.

Harry shook his head, resting against the other boy as the he tried to return to sleep. This time, his dreams were full of dancing blue eyes, flaming hair and deft, calloused hands.


	8. Awakenings IIX

Awakenings IIX 

/The forest looms over the small boy walking along the grassy strip bordering the woods. Dusk has drawn in, purples and blues faded to soft, velvet blackness, studded with stars, a full, white moon hanging placidly in the night sky.

Gentle noises drifted over the still fields, mixed with the soft smells of a June night.

The peace was broken by a snarling roar from the forest, causing the tawny boy to jump, backing away from the shadows among the trees.

His name, drifting over the tall grasses. A ball of light bobbing over the fields. His father, coming to look for him at this late hour.

Another snarl, a hairy form exploding from the undergrowth, a sharp, sudden, tearing pain in his shoulder, his fathers yells, a growl echoing away into the night/

/Ripping, howling, tearing into the walls, the floor. Kept away from others so biting, clawing at himself. A noise! The door opening! Gathering himself to spring towards the small form in the doorway. Black eyes, black as the night sky so many years ago, wide in a bone-white face. Lunging for the pulse beating in the exposed throat…/

Remus jerked awake, eyes going to the window, where a waxing moon, ¾ full swam in a patch of inky blackness. He pushed a hand through greying tawny hair, eyes fading from yellow to a warm amber brown as the dreams receded.

Unconsciously, the hand dropped down to his left shoulder, kneading the scar formed by the werewolf's bite, tracing silvery lines he'd inflicted himself over the full moons of over thirty years.

He shook his headm, dismissing the dark dream, nay, memories, from his mind. He looked across the bed, a smile creeping across his face as he watched his lover sleep, the lines of care and pain smoothed from his face, making him look his age for once, rather than twenty years alder than he was. Black hair fell over his face, softening the harsh features. A body a shade too thin, covered in silver lines and raised pink scars, an outstretched arm draped across the bed, wrapped around Remus's waist, forearm indelibly marked with a glaring black skull and snake.

Remus smiled, smoothing hair from his loves face as he lay down, pillowing his head on the others shoulder as he drifted into dreams of snapping black eyes and sarcastic, teasing, velvet barbs.


End file.
